


Your Love is a Drug

by orphan_account



Series: Insatiable [9]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Cunnilingus, F/M, Femdom, Marathon Sex, Masturbation, Pinching, Scratching, Vaginal Sex, anal penetration, fucking someone with the hilt of a sword lmao, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 08:56:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20654552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Claude gets kidnapped, but Byleth is nothing if not efficient. So it doesn't really take long for her to rescue her damsel in distress.Rescuing him is fine, but dealing with the fact he's been injected with aphrodisiacs? Might be a slight challenge.





	Your Love is a Drug

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by my sis. Excuse the generic as fuck title lmao.
> 
> Please enjoy.

Byleth was having a good day. 

Even better, it was a _ productive _day. They’ve set up camp, sharpened their weapons, have plenty of supplies from several successful hunts and everyone’s vigilant from the recent sparring. Easy conversation fills the camp as people relax for the end of the day. Raphael will be cooking, and Byleth can’t wait for the feast he’ll be preparing. 

It’s a content atmosphere. Something precious. Byleth thinks she should go fishing at the river nearby and gets her gear. Absolutely nothing could ruin this—

“C-Claude’s been captured by the Imperial Army!”

She breaks the fishing rod she’s holding in two. Time seems to stop in her little bubble as Hilda and some others frantically make their way to her. 

Evidently, not _ everyone _stayed very vigilant, even with the sparring. She’ll have to give him a stern talking to when this is over. 

And it _ will _be over quickly, if the righteous indignation that’s flowing through her veins and rushing to her head has anything to say about it. 

“Where?” Is all she says, eyes narrow and jaw tense. Hilda puts her hands on her knees as she pants heavily. Marianne and Ignatz soon joins her. Considering their heaving, they must have ran a while. And from the direction they came, Byleth guesses the kidnapping happened around the hill they passed in the West. It’s a good vantage point and Claude was probably having a stakeout. 

“The hill in the West!” Hilda cries out.

There we go. 

Soon enough, Claude’s wyvern joins them and bellows deeply before nudging at Byleth’s hand. She caresses Pruina’s white scales and her expression softens. 

“You’d be able to smell him out, wouldn’t you girl?” She asks the reptile, and Pruina makes a guttural noise as if in confirmation. 

She doesn’t wait for everyone else when she mounts Pruina, opting to just tell them to follow her and the wyvern flaps her wings heavily and lifts off. 

Wyverns are carrion eaters. They rely on their highly specialized sense of smell to sniff out dead bodies to feast on. Pruina’s more than well acquainted with Claude’s scent.

It won’t take long to find him. 

-

And it doesn't take very long at all.

Hellfire has no fury like a woman (and wyvern) scorned. 

She likes to think there’ll be stories of this from the soldiers that ran off. Of Imperial soldiers shivering in fear at the mere thought of what happened on this day. They’ll relax on their downtime, cheering with friends and drinks. The pub would have hundreds of conversations told in loud voices, all of them would be competing with the music that will dominate the atmosphere. But the festivities would stop when older, more grizzled soldiers stop by. The younger soldiers would look at them with awe, admiring their battletorn bodies riddled with scars. 

_ “Where’d you get that?” _A naive solder would ask, unaware of the horrors of a certain enemy that harboured the power of a Goddess inside of her. 

_ “Oh, this?” _ Grizzled soldier #25644 would respond, taking time to admire a long cut down their bicep, _ “This was one from the hardest fight of my life.” _

Younger soldiers would congregate around the old soldiers, eyes rapt with curiosity and attention. 

_ “It was a day of victory, we had captured the leader of the Leicester Alliance, he’s a slippery fellow. But we didn’t take into account… the consequences of such an action,” _they tremble at the mere memory of that day… A day of reckoning…

_ “Before we knew it a blinding light descended upon us—A wyvern white as snow. No, whiter than snow. It’s scales glistened and shone brighter than the sun. We didn’t even know what it was before it was too late…” _A solemn look would pass over their face as they look away, as if trying to grasp at the vision of a long lost friend. 

_ “It was a massacre. We didn’t stand a chance. A fiery blade crashed down upon us. And it was only one woman. One woman! It was a dance of death and she reveled in the killing! She’s the Ashen Demon!” _

Eyes would open wide, murmuring in the group would fester like a buzzing of bees as people would exchange worried glances. 

_ “Byleth Eisner…” _ The withered soldier would say… Then their scared gaze would turn into one of admiration, _ “Who’s totally the hottest person ever. If she didn’t strike us down with her flames we’d be dead anyway cause her attractiveness is so piping hot-” _

“Professor, stop daydreaming! Hellooooo~?” Hilda waves her hands in front of Byleth’s eyes who blinks rapidly at being interrupted. 

She’s pretty sure she was laughing while having that daydream. Well, no matter. Everyone in this encampment has been taken care of. It was fairly quick work, and pathetically easy to defeat these troops. The Empire needs to get better soldiers. Or at least train them better, honestly. Perhaps this was an inexperienced group that saw Claude and took him as a spur of the moment idea? To show their peers they’re not children and can be taken seriously? Maybe on their side the plot of an underdog story was playing out before it was rudely cut short by Byleth’s blade. 

How sad. Surely they had aspirations of being good soldiers and showing what they were made of to their friends and family.

She kicks at the foot of someone who called her a bitch before she stabbed him in the throat. 

_ Well, sucks to be them. _

She rolls her shoulder and looks at Hilda, who’s quirked her brows at her and her mouth cracks in a dimpled smile.

“Found Claude, Professor! He’s over there—”

Byleth pats Hilda on the head with a toothy grin on her face and she heads to where she’s pointing. Of course he’s in the biggest tent of the area. And the fact there’s tents really shows these were a bunch of amateurs. Surely they should have ran further with one of the _ leaders _of the damn enemy army. Byleth thinks that maybe her theory was correct, these were a bunch of newbies that took Claude in an attempt to give themselves glory over their peers. 

She supposed she should feel sorry for killing most of them, but they _ did _kidnap her boyfriend. So. 

And she feels like she has to give Claude a much sterner talking to if he was able to get caught by these slobs. 

She enters the tent and is greeted by… groaning. She’d understand that, Claude might be hurt, maybe he was hit in the head. But then it’s followed by…_ panting, _ and her brows furrow in confusion.

The interior of the tent is dark and even a bit omnious but then she catches a flurry of familiar gold and heavy footsteps fast approaching her. 

“B-Byleth!” And he sounds so _ needy. _Poor thing.

Byleth’s confusion dissipates as she replaces it with an easy smile and opens her arms.

_ Heh. I remember him telling me he wanted to do kidnapping roleplay. He’s totally into the moment right now. Come, leap into my arms little deer—!! _

_ “—Uurrgk!” _

She blinks as she watches Claude’s body momentarily goes airborne and he suddenly lies on his back, still groaning. Now that her vision has adapted to the dark, she sees shackles around his wrists, and a chain leading up to a post in the ground. So he ran full speed but got violently stopped by his restraints. 

_ Ouch. Hope he didn’t dislocate anything. _

Claude whimpers, and Byleth drops her arms ad knits her brows in worry. 

_ Romantic leaping into arms will have to wait. _

She quickly makes her way to him, “Claude, you okay? Are you hurt?”

“Nnng… Please, B-Byleth… i-it hurts…” He moans, sounding like he’s in genuine pain.

She wipes some hair from his eyes and she notices his forehead is slicked with sweat, but luckily there’s no blood to be found. She continues inspecting his neck and arms for any signs of injury. 

“Where, Claude? Where does it hurt? Do you need me to get Marianne?” She softens her voice when she hears him panting again and she thinks he might be on the cusp of a panic attack. She’s about to break the chains when there’s a shrill whine. 

_ “Uuuuugh.” _

She can only stare at him, eyes wide. Now thar she gets a proper look at his face she sees his gaze is dazed with half-lidded eyes, and a deep blush dances across his face. His lips are parted in a small ‘o’ and he seems sweatier than before. 

That face, accompanied by _ that _whine is something she’s familiar with at this point. 

Her eyes flick down to his crotch.

His pants are tented. 

She can’t suppress the groan that comes out of her mouth when she looks at him, annoyed, “Really Claude? Right now?”

He brings his legs together and curls in on himself, but his hands twist into an iron grip onto Byleth’s pauldron. 

His eyes suddenly flash with panic, “N-No… Byleth it’s n-not like that—” he rubs his legs together and his expression flickers with intense arousal, “Uuugh… I-I’ve been like this for _ hours.” _The last bit ended with another high-pitched whine that ends with him biting his lips and fluttering his eyes at her. 

“...Uhhh,” is the only thing that comes out Byleth’s mouth. 

_ Brilliant, Byleth. Perfect time to gape like an idiot. _

His grip on her tightens, “Please!” he borderline shouts, eyes wide, “I-I—hnnng—They i-injected me with s-something.” He buries his face into her shoulder and breathes heavily, as if trying to lap up her scent. His legs spread and he bucks in the air. 

Byleth feels as though she’s rooted like the post and she only stares at the offending wooden post in the middle of the tent. 

“...Uuuuuuuuuuhh,” her voice unhelpfully supplies.

When Claude bucks in the air again and mutters a guttural _ umph _Byleth thinks he might actually cum by just smelling her. Light filters into the tent as someone enters the tent. 

“I’m glad to see you two alright, does Claude need any medical attention?" That sounds like Ignatz.

_ Nope. Nuh uh. No way. Can’t let anyone see him like this. _

She quickly shoves Claude away from her and he makes a noise that’s a mix between a cry and a whine. Byleth winces at it but approaches Ignatz, who now just looks confused. She keeps her head down, knowing she’s blushing, and wraps an arm around Ignatz’s shoulders as she forcibly makes him move out of the tent with her. 

“B-Byleth!” Claude whimpers, and Byleth is pretty sure he’s crying now. His sounds soon devolve into a series of desperate whining and mewling. 

She grits her teeth and faces a dumbfounded Ignatz.

“Get everyone. We’re gonna have an emergency meeting.”

-

They have an impromptu meeting in some disheveled tent nearby. It must have been the enemy's war room of sorts as it's littered with haphazard drawings of the area and scattered battle plans. A light shower of rain begins to beat against the canvas roof and sides and drips of water run down the sides of the tent. Some water drips inside. 

Once everyone filters inside it's almost a bit cozy. Everyone stands shoulder to shoulder and she spies some hands being held. She'd _ tsk tsk _about fraternization but she's the last person to make that comment. 

She puts her both her hands on the main table in the center of the tent, her expression turns into one of steel. 

"I think Claude's been drugged with aphrodisiacs."

Somewhere in the crowded tent someone laughs but hides it in a badly disguised cough.

She taps the top of the desk, her brows knitting together, “I’m serious. He’s… not himself.”

Murmurs washes across the crowd, with one question sticking out more than the rest, “Why would they drug him with _ that?” _

It’s something Byleth wonders as well. Did they mix up drugs or something? Surely the imperial army isn’t that daft. Why would they even have access to such a drug? Is there fraternization happening on their side too? 

There’s a rustle in the crowd and Ignatz eventually makes it to the other side of the table and he fixes his disheveled hair and repositions his glasses, “Could… Could it be they were trying to interrogate him?”

Leonie crosses her arms and quirks a brow, “That isn’t an interrogation technique I’ve ever heard of.”

Byleth knows Jeralt never taught her such… an underhanded technique. It’s certainly a different type of torture, though it’s a torture she’s familiar with in the _ bedroom _not trying to extract valuable information in a very finite amount of time. 

Ignatz’s face suddenly flushes and pulls on his collar, embarrassed about something. 

His voice is light and quivers, “Um. It’s just that—I’m sure I can speak for every guy here—But it, uh, hurts a lot after a while.”

There’s another badly hidden laugh. 

He continues, still looking self-conscious, “I-I guess you could call it a form of torture. It might actually work for interrogation?”

She blinks. From the corner of her eyes she sees Leonie with her hand on her mouth and eyes closed. _ “Men are too easy,” _the red-head mutters. 

Byleth has to make a conscious effort to not ask Ignatz how he’s apparently so familiar with aphrodisiacs, though she can take a guess. She’s pretty sure little miss pink hair is the only one that’s trying her damndest to not burst out laughing.

Byleth sighs and rakes her hand through her hair, “So… what, I just wait for this to wear off?”

“Or you could, you know, fuck him and save us all the trouble with dealing with him,” Leonie scoffs and now everyone is trying to avoid looking in Byleth’s direction. She loves her friends, but sometimes they were just a bit insufferable. 

“If he’s been injected with what I think he’s been injected with,” Ignatz eventually says, “It’ll be _ days _before it wears off. It might be best for you to… you know.”

Maybe getting an emergency meeting involving everyone wasn’t the best idea afterall. Byleth can feel some heat begin to fill her face, but at the same time bile fills her stomach. Anxiety builds up like a stream and there’s a foul taste in her mouth. 

Her brows crease in a look of worry, “Is this similar to being drunk? Is he even aware of what’s going on?” Her fists clench, “I can’t—I _ won’t _do anything if he can’t fully consent to it.”

Looks of understanding washes over everyone’s faces with Leonie cupping a hand on her shoulder reassuringly. Byleth appreciates the gesture. 

Ignatz’s gaze softens and he makes his voice lighter, “He can, trust me. He’s been injected with the nectar of a flower from the far east, it makes something sex drive go a bit crazy but he’s still fully conscious. I’m sure of it, I’ve seen vials of that nectar in other tents while looking for supplies. This group was… really loaded.”

Byleth gives him a skeptical look and raises a single brow. She can’t contain her curiosity any longer.

“And how do _ you _know all of this?”

Before a certain axe user can guffaw under a coughing fit there’s a distant _ yowl _that fills the tent. It seemingly echoes across the horizon and everyone stiffens. Sounded distinctly of someone dying. In pain.

Then it’s so quiet she could probably hear a pin drop.

There’s another strangled cry, “_ Aaaaaarrrghhh… Byleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeth-!!” _

Now everyone’s not looking at her again, some finding the ceiling suddenly very interesting or closing their eyes with their hands on their faces as if trying to will Claude’s cries out of their heads. 

Byleth awkwardly plays with a strand of hair, her expression about to crack. 

_ Sounds like a fucking reaper is out to get me with his fucking yowling. _

Through the pitter patter of rain, another scream can be heard from far away and she can’t take it anymore. 

She slams her fists on the table, “Alright, I’ll go to him and see what I can do… Everyone else, stay fucking far away. If I so much as I hear anything outside the tent I’ll be injecting you with a vial of this fucking aphrodiasc."

There’s one light murmuring among the group and Byleth turns to leave as everyone else quickly scatters. Her face is red, she’s aware of that much. 

_ Seriously? Aphrodisiacs? The fuck? _

They’ll probably be confiscating the vials when they leave this encampment. Perhaps it could actually be useful material for interrogations. Men were awfully easy creatures. 

She can’t help but smirk. It’s all so silly. Aphrodisiacs for interrogation. It may work for most men, but, well, she’s _ trained _Claude to take a good edging. He probably wouldn’t have keeled even if she didn’t find this camp over some days. She supposes she should be proud of that fact. 

She enters the tent he’s being held in. 

\--

She wishes she could have brought her toys. It certainly would make whatever’s going to happen go by a lot quicker. 

She looks down at him. Claude’s on his knees, tugging at his restraints. He’s wide eyed, staring at her with frenzied lust. Squinting her eyes, she sees he’s been drooling.

“Oh Claude,” she says, now exasperated, “What am I going to do with you?” 

She just gets a pathetic whine in response to that. 

“B-B-Byleth… pleaseeeeee,” he punctuates the _ please _by bucking his hips and whimpering. 

She can’t help but lick her lips. He looks so… so _ delicious. _With his half lidded eyes, sweat slicked brow, wrists bound, drool and barely contained tears… He’s a feast to be devoured. 

But there’s still something holding her back. 

“Claude,” she says, voice slightly breathless, “Are you… conscious of what’s happening? Can you consent? What's your safeword?”

His expression flickers with annoyance and impatience, “_ Yes. _Yes I can, Byleeeeeeth,” he ends her name with a small whine, “It'sGloucester", he breathes out quickly, "Just! Hurry up and fuck me already! I’m fucking d-dying!”

She huffs. Maybe he’s not as resistant to edging just yet. She’ll have to fix that another time. 

She cracks her neck. She’ll trust that Ignatz was telling the truth. It also seems Claude’s… somewhat coherent, just desperate. Time to get in character.

The rain outside is getting harder, and thunder bellows in the distance. She’s thankful for the extra noise, even if the ambiance is suddenly ominous. Pruina is tied to a tree somewhere. She idly hopes someone will give her proper sheltering. 

She narrows her eyes at him, “If you’re so desperate, why don’t you just jack yourself off?”

He looks at her, almost afraid, then looks at his wrists. Then to himself again. 

“B-But...” He lifts his hands up to her.

She snickers, lips quirking up in a sadistic smile, “Like being tied up ever stopped you before.”

There’s a hint of a grin that forms on his face as he gets into character as well. He hastily and clumsily shimmies out of his clothing as fast as he can, as if the layers of cloth is literally burning him. 

When he’s fully naked he lays back and spreads his legs, displaying his delicious naked form in front of Byleth. Her pupils dilate as the sweat trails down the curve of his toned muscles and her gaze flicks back to his gaze she has to stop herself from just pouncing on him. 

"E-Enjoying the view?" He says, panting like he’s run a marathon. If he’s able to make snarky remarks like that, he probably is still conscious of what’s going on. Good.

Judging by the bob of Claude’s hard cock against his belly, the bead of liquid excitement at the tip growing until it slipped down to puddle along the line of his foreskin, it seems like he’s enjoying himself too. Perhaps curing him from the aphrodisiacs effects won’t take long if he’s already that close to finishing.

She grins, all teeth, and she can tell from his own dilated pupils that he wants her to sink her teeth into him. That can happen later. 

She sits down to fully enjoy the show her lover is giving her. Claude brings his tied hands to his cock, both palms on either side of his shaft, and he begins pumping himself like there’s no tomorrow. She doesn’t know how long he’s been under the efforts of the drug, but if she had to take a guess, he’s been dying to jack himself off for a while now. 

She rests her chin under one of her hands and licks her lips. His desperate whines, whimpers and mewls as he fisted at his cock were a divine symphony of lurid noises. She really could listen to him all day and she’d get off just fine. His distress and desire to release makes her begin to get wet, her fluids dripping on her panties. 

His hands turn into a blur with how fast his movements become and Byleth can tell he’s beginning to come close. He lifts his head to stare at her and she meets his gaze, unwavering and unblinking. She knows he likes it when she watches him like this. He’s a performer at heart and Byleth takes pride in the fact she’s his only audience. This is only reserved for _ her _and she’s going to keep it that way. 

He shuts his eyes shut and cums with a soundless scream. The pearly white substance pools around his abs and he arches his back as he squirts a good five or so streams. The effects of the aphrodisiac must enhance his orgasm, because now he’s trembling violently. His body goes limp, though there are some shakes from aftershocks. 

She exhales sharply, “Well,” she says, face red and gaze sharp, “That wasn’t so hard now was it?”

Slowly Claude tries to lift himself up, though he’s unsteady like a newborn fawn. 

“Y-You,” he swallows and clears his throat, “You r-really should have done a lecture on aphrodisiacs, T-Teach,” he smiles as best as he can, though his face is covered in drool and tears now, “The effects don’t g-go away that easily…”

She blinks, and looks at his crotch.

He’s still hard.

_ Huh. _

No refractory period, then. Or hard until he’s really spent all the semen in him. Which is… not something she’d ever thought she would need to think about.

_ How many times does he need to cum then?! _

But, well. She supposes it would have been a pretty shitty drug if it only lasted for one orgasm.

Her toothy grin widens, canines showing like a snarling wolf sizing up its prey.

_ Might as well have some fun with this. _

She rolls her shoulders and approaches him, forcing him to lie back down when she goes on top of him. One of her legs goes in between his, and presses against his groin which makes him groan heavily. Both of her hands go on either side of his head. She stares directly at his face, with his wrists still bound and sitting on his chest and his expression so flushed she swears she can feel the heat radiating off of him, he’s a sumptuous banquet for her eyes.

She’s still smiling at him like a wolf cornering its next meal, “Now, what _ will _I do with you?”

And to her surprise, and elation, he shyly averts his gaze. Cute, cute, cute.

Despite his face apparently being shy, his body sure isn’t. He grinds his hips against her leg. 

“Y-You could,” he says, voice raspy, “Touch me…”

She quirks a brow, “I already am. Your rutting against my leg.”

Despite having his head turned to the side she still see a flicker of annoyance on his expression. And the pout. Apparently having aphrodisiacs in one’s system makes you adorable, who knew.

He licks his lips, “Are you really going to make me cum by r-rubbing on your leg?” Then he turns back to her, his eyes still half-lidded, “D-Don’t answer that, I know you’re enough of a b-bitch to do that _ Byleeeeeeeth.” _

She can’t help but chortle at him drawing out her name in a long whine again. She could get used to this sort of desperation. 

He throws his head back and groans, hips riding up her leg further. His hands go up to her chest, probably with the intent of fondling her breasts but she’s still wearing her armour. 

“Uuugh,” he drawls, “Just - Just get out of these s-stupid armour,” his expression contorts into a grimace when all she does it grind her leg into him further, “_ You! _ You are an Ashen Demon! Just stop t-teasing! Ffffuuuuck!”

_ Well, since he asked so nicely. _

She stands and starts to take off her armour. 

But she makes sure to go as slowly as possible. At first Claude watched her with rapt attention, constantly needing to wet his lips. Now, she unbuckles a strap at a snail’s pace, and while his cock may twitch and drip his expression is one of horror. 

His hands go to his cock again to try to give himself some relieve. 

“Byleth! Please!”

A smile dimples her face, “There’s the magic word.”

And she’s getting impatient herself so she quickly removes her clothing and armour. She slaps his hands away when she hovers her entrance just above the tip of his cock. She presses him against her, but not allowing him entry. She rubs him against her folds and she can feel more precum begin to leak out of him. 

At another whine, she lifts a single questioning brow at him, “Say the magic word again, Claude.”

She grows more wet at his trembling and almost frantic breathing. Entering her was a _ privilege. _ Good boys better ask nicely.

A new set of tears begins to form in his eyes, snot now trailing down his face. 

“P-P-Please!”

That’ll have to do. 

She holds onto his shaft and lets him enter her, but slowly. She relishes in every change of his expression; of his anticipation, of his desperation and of his growing arousal that no doubts feels like he’s about to explode. Once he’s fully inside of her she feels so full. She sighs contentedly, and before moving her hips she makes sure to clench down on him and the long, low groan that is coaxed out of him is _ divine. _

And again, she can’t help but think that men are so easy.

She rolls her hips and the sensation must be intensified from the drugs because he just gives a shrill whimper like this is his first time being ridden by a woman. She wonders what other senses are intensified like this. 

She brings a hand down to pinch a nipple and he gasps sharply, then she twists it and his arches his back. 

“Haaah—hnng—haah. M-More-!” 

She obliges his wish, bringing another hand to twist and pull at him and she can feel his cock twitch inside of her. She rolls her hips and pinches harder before scratching her long sharp nails down his chest and stomach. Her eyes narrows at the angry red lines that form on his skin. He looks so good in that shade of red. 

Claude continues to writhe and hiss underneath her, his face a glorious mix of desperation and fear. His hand tied hands move to the top of his head when she lightly slaps at them and stays there obediently at the silent command, like the good boy he is.

She continues her ministrations of scratching, pinching, twisting and pulling and the only noises Byleth hears is her mocking laughter and his cries. She continues moving her hips against him, and he occasionally bucks his hips to get inside her deeper. Those movements usually earn him a slap to the face. 

He relishes in the pain. And she relishes in giving him that pain. 

Eventually, her hands go to hold his wrists, pinning him. And she lowers herself to kiss him fiercely. Her breasts press against his chest and she picks up her own pace. She rides him, fast and hard like a hurricane. His voice just ends in a rough gurgle as he takes her rough treatment and she bites his lip hard enough to make his back arch. 

She’s ridden him like this before. She remembers him joking about her breaking his hips with the force she pounds into him. 

She may not have broken his hips, but a bed frame broke once. 

She gives him no time to recover when she lets go of his lip to sink as she sinks her teeth into his beck. That gives her a high-pitched cry and she clenches down on him again. She sucks on his neck when she feels him shake violently again from another orgasm. He spills into her and her crotch becomes a waterfall when she cums herself. 

Claude bites onto his own lip and ends a scream with a rough _ “mmmph!” _

She bites him into harder as she rides off her own orgasm and lets him go. She admires her handiwork. He looks well and truly fucked. Tears streaming down his face, his voice no more than a hoarse whisper, scratches running down his body, a bruising hickey forming on his neck… She could pat herself on the back on a job well down. 

But she can feel that he’s still hard inside of her. 

Her eye twitches and lifts herself off of him, which makes Claude shiver, goosebumps showing across his body.

Now she stands directly over his face. 

“Clean the mess you made,” Is all she says and she lowers herself down on him. 

His body and expression might look exhausted, but his tongue immediately works itself in and around her folds like it’s been waiting for this. She lazily grinds against his face and the thought of him eating up both her fluids and his semen makes her lower stomach ignite with warming arousal. 

She lets him lick for a few minutes, with her occasionally grabbing his hair to shove him further into her crotch. She’s rough like she usually is and turning her head over her shoulder, she can tell his member appreciates the harsh treatment. 

She thinks she’ll ride him until she cums again, but a devious thought suddenly fills her mind. 

And utterly _ filthy _thought. 

Byleth lifts herself from Claude’s mouth, and when she laces her fingers against his hair again and pulls him up to a sitting position he hisses sharply. 

He looks at her with bleary and unfocused eyes. 

She summons the Sword of the Creator. 

When his eyes go as wide as saucer plates she thinks she’s going to permanently imprint that expression into her memory.

She barks a laugh at him, then points the hilt of the blade at his mouth. 

“Suck,” she commands, leaving no room for arguing. 

He looks unsure for a split second but obeys, his lips wrapping around the handle. He hollows out his cheeks and bobs his head up and down. When her fingers find purchase in his hair again, Claude moans with the impromptu dildo still in his mouth. 

She pushes and pulls at him, effectively face-fucking him with a _ fucking holy sword. _

_ Why did I never think of his before? This is fucking awesome. _

He gags and splutters on the unfamiliar shape, but otherwise takes it down his throat with ease. 

She pulls him off the sword, a trail of saliva following Claude. 

“Spit,” she whispers lowly, and he obeys. 

She presses the hilt back against his swollen lips, “Now lick around it.”

And he obeys. 

He slathers his tongue up and down apparatus, not missing a single inch. 

Her grin reaches her ears, “Good boy.” And she can see how that word affects him with how he whimpers heavily. 

Eventually she presses the handle back into his mouth and face-fucks him again. He looks up at with pleading eyes but it just makes her wetter. She hits the back of his throat and he gives off a particularly messy gag. 

His jaw must hurt from distending at this point, so she releases him. The hilt is thoroughly soaked, and so are her thighs with the fluid running down her legs. 

She groans and the rolls her shoulders, “Turn around. Face down and ass up.”

He gives her a wink and the weakest smile she’s ever seen, “Y-You really are a demon, haha…”

But he does as ordered, and she can see him shake in anticipation. She thinks she’s shaking too. 

The very thought of using the Sword of the Creator for _ this _makes her more giddy than she thought possible. Even if the Goddess strikes her down where she stands, it’ll be fucking worth it. 

She spreads his asscheeks with a hand and spits at his puckered hole, which makes him jump. She spits at him again, and another for measure. She then smooths a hand across his back, “Relax.”

His back arches and she aims at his hole. When she presses against him he gives a needy whine. She continues pressing until his entrance gives in, the damp hilt filling him surprisingly easy. His whine turns into a whimper. 

No doubt he can feel every notch, every individual notch. The Sword of the Creator _ did _have a lot of detail on it, afterall. 

She puts more weight onto the weapon and he rolls his hips, toned thighs quivering. 

“I-It’s,” he cries, throat dry and raspy, “It’s nnnngggh—uuugh… Hnng, deeeeep-uuuh.”

He’s words are still far too coherent for her liking. So she fucks him with her chosen implement with slow but deliberate movements. The hilt isn’t particularly wide, but it is quite long. An unforgiving length. She briefly muses that she might have hit his stomach when he _ screams _and a pile of drool forms on the floor. Her smile only grows wider at his writhing and cries. 

His groans become muffled when he presses his face against his shoulder and she starts to fuck him with harder and faster. Back and forth, back and forth. Soon, all she hears is the truly filthy squelching noises of his asshole taking her sword. 

Claude’s no longer coherent, just giving shrill cries with a cacophony of _ ‘nnnghs’ _ and _ ‘uuuumphhs.’ _She fucks him as fast as she dares, and she knows he hits his prostate when his toes curls and sounds like a dying animal. It only makes her hit his prostate harder.

His back arches again, like a cat, curving as far as humanly possible. She knows his cock must be a blushing red, and soon enough she hears him ejaculating. Feels it too, as the semen splatters against her feet. She removes the hand of the sword from him and throws it to the side. Truly her treatment of the blade has been nothing but one blasphemy after another. It’s a not good thing she’s not much of a believer, even after everything that’s happened.

Claude falls to the side, and does his usual shaking again. He curls in on himself, and when his cries turns into light sniffles she joins him on the ground, coaxing his face to come in between her breasts and she caresses his hair. 

And luckily for him, he’s finally flaccid. 

_ Third time’s the charm. _

A good thing, as well, considering how he’s at his very limit. Both for his body and for his subspace. A fourth consecutive orgasm probably would have wrecked him, and not in a good way. 

“Let it all out,” she coos, still patting his head.

Eventually there’s a silence, and Byleth realizes the rain has stopped. She thinks Claude might have feel asleep in her arms and chest but he looks up her, eyes rid-rimmed and puffy. 

“I can’t believe you churned butter with my ass.”

She splutters a surprised laugh at that, voice echoing in the tent. Claude joins her laughter, though his voice is much softer and raspier. Right, she should probably get him water. 

She recomposes herself, “I should take those restraints off you. And get you some water”

But when she tries to extract herself from him he buries his face back into her chest again.

“Naaaaaaaah,” he drawls, “These leather cuffs are comfy. Plus, I just wanna sleep,” he mutters. 

She huffs a breath, but she supposes she can allow him to do this after the whole… ordeal. So she continues to rub his hair, with her other hand now starting to gently caress his back. 

They’re lying in dirt and they’re filthy with various fluids running down their skin but she finds she really doesn’t care. She’s even a bit excited over the prospect of having a nice, long bath with him when they get back to their own camp. 

She hears a light “thank you” muttered in between her breasts and she closes her eyes. 

-

In the end, she did give him a stern talking to over getting kidnapped so easily. He just sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck and winked at her, saying if he could have sex like that he’d get kidnapped more often. 

She thwacked the back of his head with her palm after that. 

She thought about punishing him, but Pruina then dogpiled him and licked him for hours.

Byleth supposed that being trapped underneath a giant lizard was punishment enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Can you tell that I just sorta lost my motivation halfway through? Lmao. I'm not really into aphrodisiacs so go figure. at least I learned something about myself. 
> 
> Regardless, I hope it was enjoyable to those who do enjoy that kink! Thanks for reading!


End file.
